Born in 1887 / Died in 1914 / Austria / German
The near stillness recalls what is forgotten, extinct angels.
Despair, night in the grieving senses.
The guilt of newborns is immense.
The icy wave of eternity would engult the golden image of man.
When we are thirsty, we drink the white waters of the pool, the sweetness of our mournful childhood.
I drank the silence of God from a spring in the woods.
Earlier lives drift by on silver soles, and the shadows of the damned descend into these sighing waters.
The blue of my eyes is extinguished in this night, the red gold of my heart.
For whoever is lonely there is a tavern.
Shuddering under the autumn stars, each year, the head sinks lower and lower.
Silently, God opens his golden eyes over the place of skulls.
Frost and smoke. A white shirt of stars burns your worn-out shoulders, and God's vultures tear at your metallic heart.
Black frost. The ground is hard, the air tastes bitter. Your stars cluster in evil signs.
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